


Detective Jim

by EmmyKottakis



Series: A Day in Your Shoes [1]
Category: MorMor - Fandom, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-26 16:00:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18182705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmyKottakis/pseuds/EmmyKottakis
Summary: On a whim, Jim and Richard enter a dare: for one day, they swap lives. Whoever breaks character first loses, and winner gets bragging rights. Both are determined to win, and completely unaware of what’s in store for them...





	Detective Jim

It was late at night. The Moriarty twins were in the kitchen of Jim’s flat, a piece of paper in both of their hands. Earlier that day, Richard had mentioned a dare for both of them to attempt going a day living the other’s life. Jim, not one to turn down a challenge, had full heartedly accepted. The dare was due to start the next day, and end at precisely 11:59 pm.  
“You sure about this?” Richard asked with a shrug, smiling slightly as he looked at the piece of paper in his hand, a copy of his schedule for tomorrow and all of the things that Jim would have to carry out.  
“Of course I am,” Jim paused for a moment, eyeing Richard carefully before adding on, “But if you screw any of this up, either shoot whoever you are talking to or tell someone else to shoot them. I can *not* deal with people thinking I’ve gone soft.”  
Richard nodded cheerfully, of course having no clear idea what was in store for him, but before he could open his mouth to reply, Jim continued on.  
“And you cannot wear any scarves.”  
“But-”  
“Or hats. And I swear if you make any kind of joke, or if you giggle, I will find out, and I will kill your agent.”  
“You’d like my agent.” Richard sulked for a moment, before brightening at the thought that Jim would have to be an actor for a day...now that would be interesting.

 

The night came and went, and Jim woke up already frowning. He had glanced at Richard’s schedule, but hardly given it a close look, yet he already had an underlying sense of dread. But there was no way that he was losing this dare. He would make it through the day. How bad could it be? Jim slipped out of bed, making sure not to wake Sebastian as he walked to the kitchen counter where he had left the schedule.  
Very quickly, Jim found out that it could very possibly be worse than he had feared.  
The general day outline said he had a play rehearsal from nine o’clock to one, an *audition* at three, and a tap dance class at five.  
And there was a note at the bottom, scrawled in Richard’s loopy handwriting: “I left an outfit for you in your closet”  
Jim scowled at the piece of paper, quickly committing the schedule to memory and then copying it onto his phone. This was all absolutely ridiculous. But of course, he couldn’t tell Richard that, or it would be like admitting defeat. Jim sighed softly and dragged himself to his closet, only to stare in horror moments later at the outfit that was in front of him.  
An hour later, Jim was glaring at himself in the mirror, startled when he heard a small laugh from the open door of the bedroom. A moment later, Sebastian emerged, his face alight with glee as he looked at Jim.  
“Please tell me this is part of your new wardrobe from now on.”  
“Shut up, or I’ll make your *skin* my new wardrobe.” Jim snapped, looking back in the mirror with a legendary scowl set upon his features. Sebastian smirked and walked away, laughing under his breath the whole way.  
Richard had really gone all out when choosing his outfit for the day. Jim was decked in a white t shirt with some kind of ridiculous gray jacket over it made out of a thin cloth that didn’t seem to serve any purpose except to make him look a fool, along with a frivolous blue scarf that had butterflies on it. And jeans. JEANS.  
“Damnit Richard.” Jim hissed under his breath, looking down at his sneakers with an unveiled disgust. “I hope you get stabbed by one of my associates.” Jim eyed the beige fedora that Richard had set aside with a suspicious distaste, until with a sigh he picked it up and walked into the kitchen, quickly glancing at his watch. He would have to leave soon if he wanted to get to whatever ridiculous rehearsal he was going to. Thankfully, Jim knew he had some sense of improvisation, and he was marvelous at lying, but acting out some character he hadn’t specifically designed? For other’s entertainment? The idea was repulsive. Why Richard would immerse himself in that kind of lifestyle was beyond him.  
“Good luck with your play, boss.” Sebastian said as he walked into the room, planting a kiss on Jim’s forehead that resulted in an indignant frown from the Irishman. “Try not to kill everyone, okay?”  
“I make no promises.” Jim grumbled, putting the fedora on and walking out the door, ignoring Sebastian’s barely stifled gleeful laughs along the way.  
Jim cautiously stepped into the performing arts building thirty minutes or so later. Despite reminding himself to act like Richard, while he was alone he decided he would do no such thing as smile. But, when the other actors showed up...it would be show time for him.  
What kind of things do actors talk about? Their characters? Jim had to wonder what his character was, but he was almost afraid to search someone out to ask. What if they took that as an opportunity to engage in a conversation? Jim shuddered. The thought was nauseating.  
After wandering around the halls that were lavishly decorated with posters and glittery signs and show titles, Jim found a large door that led to the main stage. A few of the lights were on, keeping the large room dimly lit, showing the rows and rows of seats leading up to the grand stage framed by velvet red curtains. He hadn’t gotten past the first two rows of chairs when he heard a cheery voice call from a woman behind him.  
“Richie, what are you doing in there? We have to check in first, remember? There’s still twenty minutes until we start the rehearsal.” Jim paused a second before turning around, forcing a carefree smile on his lips, raising his eyebrows slightly from a fixed scowl, and loosening his rigid stance. Time to play the part.  
“Oh, sorry! I must’ve forgotten, silly me.” Jim said, forcing a bright tone through gritted teeth as he faced the person standing just outside the theater doors.  
“Come on, then. We’ll have extra time to practice our lines.” Jim nodded and followed after the woman, who he soon saw had shocking bright orange curly hair tied up in a ponytail and wide blue eyes. Jim immediately hated her. She looked so excitable, it was disgusting. In a strange way, she reminded him of his brother. Oh goodness, she and Richard must be friends. Why was she still smiling at him? Have some sense of impending doom, for heaven’s sake.  
The woman led him down a few hallways, and opened a plain door, ushering Jim inside. The door led to a costume room of sorts, with one man standing in the middle of a rainbow of chaos, holding a clipboard.  
“Director Laski!” The girl yelled out happily, as if there was some celebratory greatness of pointing out one man’s name. The director looked up and smiled back, a distracted and half hearted grin.  
“Hello Hannah, hello Richard.” He said, waving his pencil to the both of them. “I’ll mark you down. We have a few props today, but not many. We should be off book by next week, alright?”  
“You know me, Director. I’ll be off book by yesterday!” Hannah’s voice was like a high pitched ringing, constantly staying at one high and excited consistency. Jim had to fight off a scowl and nod along to all of the conversation, even mustering a feeble laugh at Hannah’s (terrible) joke. Hannah then walked back out of the room, and Jim eagerly followed, wishing desperately for some peace and quiet. Hopefully he could act like he was learning his lines in some corner and not have to talk to anyone.  
“We get the complete scripts today. I can’t believe it took them so long to get it printed!” Hannah called behind her shoulder to Jim, who was trailing several feet behind her, hoping her repulsive happiness would not infect him.  
Hannah turned around, walking backwards so she could face Jim, and for a moment he entertained the thought of her falling and tumbling backward, cracking her skull open and watching the blood pool around the white tile floor….  
Hannah looked at him like she was expecting an answer from something.  
“Sorry, what?” Jim asked, staring at her blankly. Well, as blankly as a genius could.  
“Since when do you get lost in thought, Rich? All I said was do you think we should practice our lines before everyone else gets here?”  
“Uhm...sure.” Jim heard himself say. He felt his mood darken. More interaction.  
“Awesome!” She cheered, turning back around and skipping down the halls.  
Jim scowled while she wasn’t looking. Did everyone in the theater industry act so infantile?  
A few minutes later, the two of them reached the stage again, only this time more of the lights had been turned on and few props were already set on stage. A couple people milled around, one man reading a script and a woman addressing what looked like a bloody knife. For a moment, Jim felt excited by this sudden view, only to soon realize it was most definitely a prop. He sighed under his breath, trying to tune out the cheery-voiced Hannah but finding that he was interested enough in knowing what the rehearsal would be like. For now, he listened to her and was able to refrain from entertaining the thought of slowly slitting her throat.  
This whole thing was turning out to be absolutely nightmarish. More people were starting to walk into the theater, joking and talking brightly. A few waved to Jim, and he did his best to smile and wave back. He was surprised to find that he was sticking close to Hannah, but he quickly decided it was because as annoying as she was, she was one person Jim had already been forced to meet, and he wasn’t eager to be approached by others.  
Hannah bumped his shoulder playfully, frowning slightly as she looked at him.  
“What’s up, Richie? You look gloomy.”  
“Late night, don’t worry, I’m fine.” Jim said, making his voice higher and lighter. Optimism was absolutely repulsive.  
“Oh, okay.” Hannah shrugged. “I’ll go get ya a script, okay?” Jim nodded, feeling content that he would be able to stand to the side and pretend to read lines. Hannah spoke up as her gaze ran across the theater area, a horrid amount of people walking around in groups and chatting. “Oh look! It’s Lilac! C’mon, let’s say hi!”  
“No, I’m ok-” Jim started to protest, but he was already getting *tugged by the hand* towards the stage. Richard let these people touch him?  
Hannah pulled him onto the stage, waving like a madman to a girl as tall as Jim (which made him straighten his posture) with dark blonde hair and intelligent gray eyes that made Jim feel more inclined to talk to her in comparison to the other rambling idiots.  
The girl, Lilac, caught sight of them and smiled, waving them over. As soon as Jim and Hannah reached her, Lilac handed them two books from a nearby table, presumably the full scripts. Jim glanced at the title of the play. “The Detective’s Folly”.  
Jim almost groaned with annoyance. Richard was more devilish than he gave him credit for, he decided. This day was going to be a slow torture.  
Hannah and Lilac had been chatting already when Jim pulled himself back to the present.  
“So, how are you, Rich? You should get more sleep if you feel tired.” Lilac suggested. Jim had to contain a laugh. He had barely slept for the past three days, and he was still living and breathing fine.  
“I’m great, actually, don’t worry about me.” Both of the girls smiled sympathetically at him, as if he was some poor abandoned puppy on the side of the road. He had to resist the urge to snap death threats at both of them. If he broke character, he would lose the bet. The irony of acting like an actor was slightly amusing to Jim fora moment, before he regained his miserable outlook on the situation.  
The director walked into the theater, yelling for attention. Jim turned, along with all of the others. Everyone silenced in such an instantaneous way that fondly reminded Jim of the short moments just after a decisive kill, when silence won over the pleads of a desperate victim and the light faded from his eyes…  
Jim was jolted back to the moment when Lilac bumped his shoulder, giving him a glance to get him to focus. Jim hardly kept himself from scowling and immediately strangling her, but he managed to refocus towards the director.  
The man started to ramble off, this and that and characters and blah blah, and Jim found himself losing interest very quickly. That is, until the director started shouting for everyone to get into positions for scene one, and he was being pointed at and called “Detective Farley”.

 

(Two torturous hours later)

Jim burst onto the stage that was meant to resemble a living room, with a handful of people standing to the side, feigning shock and terror with scripts in their hands.  
“There’s been a murder!” he shouted, strutting forward and pointing at the dummy lying face down on the stage. “This man is dead!”  
“Yes Detective, I told you that over the phone. My uncle has died, he was murdered just an hour ago.” Lilac replied, gesturing towards the dummy that was meant to be some successful business man. Jim mused to himself that the dummy most likely was more successful than all of these pitiful actors.  
“Ah, I see.” Jim drawled, circling the body. When his back was to the actors, he let himself indulge in a dramatic eye roll as he continued his lines. “He was your uncle, you say? How am I to know that you didn’t murder him?” He whirled around, pointing at Lilac with mock suspicion.  
“She couldn’t have murdered him, she was out shopping for the homeless!” Hannah protested from where she was standing in the corner of the room, her arms crossed as she glared at Jim.  
A pause fell over the room.  
One of the boys on stage nudged Hannah.  
“Your line.” he hissed under his breath. Hannah’s eyes widened and she looked down to her script.  
“Right, sorry.” she replied, her smile melting away as she looked back up and shouted, “My father is dead, and I want to know who did it!”  
/This play is bloody awful./ Jim thought of groaning and stomping off the stage, but he was so close to getting through this damned part of the day, he couldn’t give up now.  
“Your father? So you are…?” Jim had to wonder if it would be considered in character to pull a gun on everybody and threaten to shoot down the place if they didn’t end rehearsal early.  
“Tilly Grusso.”  
“My condolences for your loss, Tilly.” Jim glanced at his script. He had memorized most of it after sacrificing a chunk of musician’s names that he had intended to blackmail from his mind map, and although at the end of the play there was a great twist where *he* was the murderer (sadly they weren’t getting to that part today) it was still a horrifically boring waste of time. Richard better be getting paid a whole lot for this, otherwise what the hell was he doing?  
“Richard!” The director shouted, standing up and pointing at Jim. “You need to look sorry, not angry. And don’t turn your back on the audience. Keep your gestures wide, come on, we talked about this. You’re the lead, we can’t go back to level one stuff like this.”  
Jim forced himself to nod, one curt gesture, while in his mind he slowly ripped the director limb from limb, hearing his screams…  
That’s better. The scene continued on, phantom screaming playing through Jim’s mind.  
/Just think torture, nice bloody torture.../


End file.
